


Entrepreneurial Endeavors

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-04
Updated: 2004-04-04
Packaged: 2018-12-27 10:19:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12079101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: If anybody was going to sell Brian Kinney, it would be him.





	Entrepreneurial Endeavors

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

"Took you long enough," Brian grunted as his lover returned from the bathroom. "Stop for a quickie or something?" 

Justin smirked and pecked Brian on the cheek, picking up the brunet's half-full glass of Beam and helping himself; Brian raised an eyebrow. "I made a pit-stop," the blond said in explanation - and that's when the older man noticed the innocuous button pinned to his lover's shirt, blue with orange writing: "I fucked Brian Kinney'. 

"Of course you did, Sunshine," Brian cooed, pinching the boy's cheeks with mock tenderness. "What's the matter, did Deb get carried away? Did PIFA get a button maker in at the visual arts department or something?" he continued, stealing his drink back from Justin.

"No," the blond laughed. "I bought it here." Brian spat out his mouthful of liquid.

"Excuse me?" 

Justin looked far too amused for his own good. "Babylon's started selling them at the front desk," he explained. "They come in different colours and variations on the phrase." 

"V-variations?" Brian choked. He handed his glass to the bartender for a refill, scowling when he noticed the red-and-yellow pin on the guy's apron, emblazoned with, "I rode Brian Kinney's nine-inch cock, and all I got was this lousy button." He winked as the Beam was replenished; Brian obstinately flipped him off.

"This is completely fucked," Brian complained as Justin bounced onto the stool next to him. "They're tacky, cheap looking, and-" he eyed some guy with a skull-and-crossbones earring, sporting a blue-and-white "Brian Kinney: the other white meat" button and gasped - "I didn't even fuck him! He has no fucking right to buy Brian Kinney paraphernalia if my cock has never been up his ass!"

"Is it really so bad?" Justin grinned, trying to look sympathetic but failing dismally.

"Do your balls turn purple if I tie them in a knot?" the older man hissed. Justin gulped.

"Point taken." 

"And anyways," Brian griped. "Even if they did meet my standards, where the fuck do they get off not cutting me in on the profits?" If anybody was going to sell Brian Kinney, he thought, it would be him.

Justin shrugged. "Maybe they figure you've patronized the backroom so much that they ought to commemorate it," he suggested.

"Then they should have made me a fucking plaque," Brian growled. Justin rolled his eyes patronizingly and got off of his stool, standing behind Brian to massage his shoulders. The older man groaned appreciatively as his lover kneaded his shoulders like dough, and was almost leaning back into the boy when he spotted Michael, Emmett, Ben and Ted out of the corner of his eye.

They were all sporting buttons.

"Fuck me," Brian breathed as they came into clearer view. Michael proudly displayed a piece of Kinney merchandise that read, "I've never fucked Brian Kinney." Dutifully, Ben's read "I've fucked Brian Kinney *and* his best friend."

Emmett's button, a cheerful pink-and-yellow combination, proclaimed, "Brian Kinney is a fuckhead." Afraid to look, Brian's eyes reluctantly moved to Ted, who gave the ad exec a nervous grin and pointed to his chest: "I want to be Brian Kinney." 

Brian was speechless. "The front desk?" he croaked, standing up on wobbly legs. "That's where they're selling the buttons?"

"And the t-shirts," Emmett chimed in helpfully, chipper as always.

"And the coffee mugs."

"The condoms with your face on them."

"And the, erm, engraved shell bracelets," Justin finished meekly as Brian leveled him a glare that could cut through iron. 

"Enough," Brian snapped. "I'll take care of this, you watch. If they think they can fuck Brian Kinney, they've got another thing coming. I'm the one who does the fucking around here, and I'll slap a lawsuit on their sorry asses so fast it'll make their heads spin." Having convinced himself of the great injustice done unto him, Brian puffed out his chest in a show of bravado and made to move towards the front desk, when a booming voice over the loud speaker stopped him in his tracks.

"Welcome to the first annual Brian Kinney Night at Babylon!" the drag queen proclaimed. "We have a bunch of special treats to kick off what we hope to be a regular, LONG-standing - pun intended - tradition," she continued. Brian felt the blood drain from his face.

"And to kick things off," the ambiguously-gendered announcer continued, "we're going to start the festivities with a slide show detailing the life and times of Liberty Avenue's hottest stud. Special thanks to Michael Novotny for gathering all of these." As the slide show began rolling amidst blaring techno music, Brian felt his life flash before his eyes, in more ways than one.

"This can't be happening," he screamed. "It can't - it can't --"

"Brian! Brian, wake up, you're having a nightmare! BRIAN!"

Groggily, Brian's eyes popped open to the relief of the slight blond hovering over him; he waited for them to adjust to the darkness of the loft bedroom before answering. "I was - that was a nightmare? Thank God," he breathed, sighing loudly in relief.

"It must have been pretty bad," Justin frowned, smoothing a stray strand of hair off his lover's forehead. "I don't remember you ever having a nightmare. You were screaming and everything."

Brian groaned. "It was pretty awful," he murmured, kicking off the duvet suddenly. "I just need some water. I'll be back." Justin nodded.

Brian poured himself a glass of water from the tap and drank it quickly, trying to rid himself of the cotton-y feel of the inside of his mouth. Giving Justin a blow-job would probably further alleviate it, the brunet thought, and vowed to do just that. Upon leaving the kitchen, he glanced at the refrigerator and the ad somebody had posted on it with a magnet for the upcoming Leather Ball at Babylon. "You hit me, and I'll hit you!" it proclaimed, adorned tastelessly with a picture of a man chained to a complicated-looking contraption. 

"Hey, Justin," Brian called, snatching the paper off the refrigerator and crumpling it into a ball. "You feel like staying home this weekend? I've got a hankering for 'Dirty Dancing' and fucking your brains out."


End file.
